


Not Your Job

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [313]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Arguing, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Hoth (Star Wars), M/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Post-TaunTaun Burrito, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The first time he almost dies on me? Fine, whatever. Space is dangerous. I get it, sport.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Series: Mental Mimosa [313]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1012767
Comments: 15
Kudos: 226





	Not Your Job

The first time he almost dies on me? Fine, whatever. Space is dangerous. I get it, sport.

But the second time? There are entrails and a serious case of fucking frostbite. I hate the cold. It doesn’t bite, nuh uh--it burns.

So ok, yeah, the Imperial Forces of Bullshit are a couple hours away, despite me blasting their probe droid, and the princess is ready to chop me half. Also: Jabba, so hey, Your Royal Highness, get in line. But the kid’s my friend--even though he’s an idiot--and it makes sense for me to check in.

He’s sitting up in a bed, thank the Maker; that Bacta stuff gives me the creeps. He’s also clean and doesn’t smell of goo or of Dead Eau de TaunTaun, so I count that as a win.

However, he’s got his arms crossed when I step in. And he’s wearing the kind of go blast yourself face that I thought Leia had cornered the market on. Crap.

“Master Luke!” Threepio burbles and fuck me, who let him tag along? “You’re alive!’

The kid doesn’t smile. “Apparently.”

“Gotta say, I thought you’d be more grateful,” I say, aiming for my most goddamn charming. “You look like somebody just dropkicked your Wookie.”

I say “Wookie” instead of “tusk cat” like I planned because Chewy’s steamrolled between me and the bed. There’s a hug. He tells Luke _Han missed you_ and _Han was so worried_ and I want to punch him. Never been more grateful that nobody here speaks Wookie but me. Besides, I didn’t have time to miss him; I was too busy trying to find him, unlike anybody else on this ice cube, so Chewy can just fucking--

“Han!”

I blink. Everyone’s staring at me, even the droid. Apparently, I missed something.

I pretend like I was ignoring them on purpose. “Yeah, what?”

“I _said_ , we need to talk.”

Seriously, has Leia been giving him lessons? I didn’t know he had that much imperious in him. “Fine, kid. So talk.”

He huffs and Chewy rolls his eyes at me, which doesn’t actually help. Threepio, on the other hand, runs his yap and starts pulling at Chewy’s arm.

“Come, Chewbacca. You heard Master Luke. We must respect his request for privacy.”

“What privacy?” I bray, because no, I am not in the mood for serious anything, much less a Serious Conversation. “Hey, whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of Chewy. Goldenrod, though, he can--”

Luke flicks his hand at the door and it opens just in time for Threepio to tug Chewy through it. 

“No,” he says to me in the silence after it closes. “Not everything.”

Something uneasy slithers up my spine. All we’ve been through the last year or so and Luke’s never looked at me like this before, like he kind of wants to kill me, which makes no fucking sense since I just saved his ass, again. Yeah, I don’t like it.

I cross my arms. “Fine, you got me alone, kid. So spill it.”

He leans back against the pillow. His stabby eyes never stray from my face. “You came looking for me.”

“No shit.”

“In the cold, which you hate. On a TaunTaun, which you hate more.”

“So? You were missing. None of these other jokers would get off their asses to look for you. Did Leia tell you she closed the blast door?”

“We’re not talking about Leia,” he snaps. “We’re talking about you.”

I throw up my hands. “Kid, I don’t know what you want me to say. Sorry for saving your life? That what you want to hear?”

“How about, you’re sorry for being so damn reckless? Or you’re sorry for risking your life?”

“Sorry?” Is he still high on meds? Is his brain full of Bacta? Where’s a fucking med droid when you need one? “I’m not sorry for that.”

He pitches forward, his face lit up, his eyes blazing, too. “Of course you’re not!” he hollers. “Why would you be? It was only mostly suicidal, after all. You’re gonna save your apologies for when you actually manage to get yourself killed, is that it?”

“Why are we talking about me getting killed? You’re the one who almost got eaten! What, was the Force too busy to tell you that a giant snow monster thing was right behind you?!” Ok, now I’m shouting. Whatever, he started it. Him and his goddamn Jedi martyr complex. 

“I was fine!”

I storm towards the bed and get in his face because seriously, what the hell? “Oh, sure, you were fine. Half frozen and bleeding and dragging your face through the snow, but yeah, you were aces, kid! I just stuffed you in a dead animal for fun.”

His face is the color of wineberries. “It’s not your job to save me, Han!”

“Well then stop trying to fucking die, _Luke_!”

It’s only then that I realize that we’re nose to nose. We’re nose to nose and my fists are in shirt and his long, cold fingers are cupped around my face.

“If I stop trying to die,” he says, each word a feather, “will you stop trying to save me?”

“I haven’t tried to save you,” I say, because hello, the truth is important. “I’ve succeeded. There is no try.”

When he kisses me, it’s a skate at first, this tentative little brush, and I know without knowing that it’s the first time, this is, that he’s ever kissed anyone. And it's me.

The angle is weird and we’re wearing too many clothes for the kind of kissing I prefer. Also, the door is unlocked and he almost died 12 hours ago so he’s probably fragile, right?

But he’s here, in my arms, not dead and 95% alive, and that’s what matters. With the rest, I can make do.

“Who taught you how to kiss, a Jawa?”

He grins. “Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.”

I curl a hand up and around his neck and tip him back until I find the right angle. His eyes flutter. His fingers catch the line of my belt. “Who’s knocking?” I ask. Hell if the words don’t come out shaky. “Not me. I’d just like to know what I’m working with here, that’s all.”

“Han?”

Now I’m the one grinning. “Yeah, kid?”

His breath flutters over my lips, his breath that’s coming from his body, his body that’s warm and whole and thanks to me, very much not frozen or dead. “Kiss me, huh? Or shut up.” 


End file.
